


Pictures & Planes

by Rhythmless



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Airforce!Castiel, Alternate Universe, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bisexual Dean Winchester, Closeted Castiel (Supernatural), Domestic Castiel/Dean Winchester, Don't Ask Don't Tell, F/F, F/M, Gay Castiel (Supernatural), Gay Panic, M/M, Photographer Dean Winchester, Pilot!Castiel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-09
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-16 04:55:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29944797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rhythmless/pseuds/Rhythmless
Summary: Cas is an Airforce Pilot who's been recently discharged after being outed under Clinton's Don't Ask, Don't Tell' Policy on his former base.  Cas reluctantly goes back home to his hometown of Boston, MA. Where he has to deal with the scrutinization of his Veteran Father and his affluent religious family.Cas and Dean are seated next to each other on the flight to Boston.After his childhood sweetheart, Cassie leaves their small Kansas town for a better life on the East-Coast and his Father leaves him with the responsibility of raising his kid brother, Dean has an innate fear of being left behind. So when his little brother, Sam is ready to leave the nest for his first year of college, Dean doesn't know how to handle it, so he decides to follow him to Boston with no plan. He ends up reconnecting with Cassie but also connecting with Cas. Cas loves structure, patterns and he's not one for change, but everything changes when he meets Dean. Dean has to confront his uncharted feelings for Cas and his unresolved history with Maggie, and finally decide what he wants for his life. Cas has to stand up to his father and his family. He needs to let things change around him for the better.
Relationships: Cassie Robinson/Dean Winchester, Castiel/Dean Winchester, Castiel/Meg Masters, Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester
Kudos: 8





	Pictures & Planes

**Pictures & Planes**

Rhythmless

Notes: 

Very short. Enjoy!

Summary:

The Meet-Cute.

Chapter 1: Turbulence

  
  


_ Castiel _

Castiel pushed down the narrow aisle of the airplane cabin, sliding by thin-framed passengers heaving heavy luggage, and ducking under overhead compartments left ajar. Castiel packed light, his only carry-on being a book and a discreet coffee mug secretly filled with a little liquid courage. He felt the strong urge to take a swig, but he decided it was best to be seated first.  That way he can drink in solemn solidarity. Castiel stood while a staunch woman with a wide smile struggled to put her luggage in the compartment. 

“Let me.” He offered a polite smile and strong calloused hands. 

“Oh! That would be-- that would be… thank you!” Her wide smile grew wider as she handed him the bag. 

The woman watched as Castiel lifted her bag with ease. 

“Thank you for your service.” She smiled at his USAF service dress uniform and then his matching blue eyes.

That stung. Castiel gave her a diplomatic nod and continued pushing forward. He sipped his “coffee”, sending a bitter heat down his throat that offered him temporary comfort. He wasn’t supposed to be wearing his Blues, but… Castiel grumbled to himself. They were  _ his _ to wear. He belonged in this uniform, he thought to himself. He  _ earned _ this. He worked for this. So as far as he was concerned they’d have to strip him down, but in a sense, they’ve already done that. They stripped him of his rank, his title, and his ability to own the skies. All he had left was his made-to-measure Blues and his name, which is the only thing that had saved him.

His name: Novak. That carried some weight. Castiel was resentful of it. His name got him assumptive looks. His name got him the first-class seats, which he traded for economy. He was tired of his name, but that was all he had left, that and his Blues, which he’d have to change out of when he got home. Home. He can’t imagine what’ll be waiting for him. His family probably knows. His father. The reason he was discharged in the first place.  _ Homosexual Conduct Discharge _ . Castiel choked back another swig. 

All he remembers was hands and skin. Hands upon skin and skin upon hands and the feeling of it all. It wasn’t loving but something close to it. The waiting and the wanting. They had only been at it for a few months. He hated hiding but he had to admit to enjoying the thrill of it. Castiel knew who he was. He liked who he was. There wasn’t an ounce of shame, but there also wasn’t security in it. Not with his name, Novak, and the weight it carried. Not when he could lose everything because of it. And he did. There’s not much else to lose, right? He scoffed. There’d be plenty. But not if he laid low and tried to get into his father’s good graces. The discharge itself was a stain on the family’s image. 

He couldn't imagine the hell that there'd be. Castiel imagined being sucked out of the plane. He imagined falling through a sky full of white clouds with no one to catch him. He enjoyed the feeling of falling because at least he was free. It was never-ending. It was--

"Excuse me. Can you...?" A man tapped his shoulder. Castiel continued moving forward.

Castiel didn’t want to be here. On this plane, despite how much he loved planes and the sky, he knew where this one was leading him to, and as he continued to shuffle forward muttering the occasional, “Pardon me. Excuse me.” He desperately wanted to stay grounded and turn around. He approached his seat, 29B, and saw a man in his row. 

The man clenched the armrests tightly and sunk against the seat as if he wished to be consumed by it. He was buckled in so tightly, Castiel was surprised he was breathing. Cas allowed himself to laugh. Damn, that felt good. He hadn't done that in quite some time. The man’s eyes were squeezed shut and he had headphones in his ears. Castiel waited a moment, somehow hoping his presence would be felt. Castiel gave the man a once-over. Light freckles peppered across his face scrunched in forced concentration. A heavy leather jacket over a plaid shirt and a T-shirt, jeans, and a pair of boots. He cleared his throat and shuffled awkwardly. He didn’t know why he was nervous. Castiel tapped the man’s shoulder and went back to his stiff stance. The man looked up in surprise and Castiel couldn’t stop himself from staring into piercing green eyes hooded by long lashes. 

“Sorry, man. Sir? Sargen--” The man gives a sheepish grin and a salute. “I’ll get out your way.”

The man pulls his headphones down and the faint sound of Zeppelin could be heard. He pockets his MP3 player, clumsily and reluctantly removing his seatbelt. He stands and leaves a little space for Castiel to squeeze by him near the seat near the window. He smelt like shaving cream and cherry pie. Castiel stops himself from looking in his eyes. He looks past him, hoping he isn’t coming off as harsh but knowing he’s failing. His quiet and reserved nature has a tendency to give people the impression he wants to be left alone. He’s unsure if that’s true at the moment. As soon as Castiel moves past, the man sits and locks himself into the seat. He power grips the armrests and takes a few deep breaths. The flight crew starts demonstrating where the emergency exits are and how to properly fasten your seatbelts. Castiel can feel the man tense next to him. 

Cas tunes out the flight attendant's drone. He looks at the people that fill the tight seats. He hears crying infants. The hushed whisper of a couple behind him. Cas sneaks a glance at the man next to him. Who’s suddenly lost any indication of his apparent fear of flying as a pretty petite stewardess smiles at him as she passes by. The fear was replaced by charm, and for a moment Castiel felt a tinge of irritation. He looked out the window, at the airway. He closed his eyes and felt the feeling subside when he felt the plane begin to rise. He opened his eyes and watched his ascent into the sky with awe. The sudden grip of a hand on his arm jolted him out of his thoughts. They shared a look for a moment. Castiel didn’t move his arm, and the man didn’t pull away, at least not immediately. Castiel tried to read him, knitting his brows in confusion. 

“Sorry, Captain.” The man sputtered. He stared at the back of the seat in front of him.

“It’s actually just--” Castiel tried. He looked down at his Blues. “It’s fine.”

Castiel didn't know what else to say. He was at a loss for words and that frustrated him further.

The man puts on his headphones. They sit in silence for a moment until--

“I’m embarrassed.” He pulls down his headphones again. More Zeppelin. He gives a nervous laugh and a bashful smile. He runs a hand through his chestnut brown hair, before he looks over to Castiel. 

“Embarrassed?” Castiel still can’t meet his eyes. He stares at the seat in front of him.

“It’s my first time. I’ve never flown before. These bow legs belong on the ground.” The man pats his knees with a chuckle. The plane starts to rattle.

“Son of a bitch!” The man grabs Castiel's arm again. He clears his throat and releases Castiel again when the plane stops shaking. “Who’s idea was this anyways? Being suspended 5,000 feet into the air in this metal death trap.”

Castiel doesn’t really know what to say, so he says nothing. He looks out the window for a moment, wishing he was amongst the clouds in his own plane which he called  _ Bee _ .

The tiny stewardess from earlier comes past with a tray of drinks. Castiel watches the man talk to her.

“You got anything good back there, sweetheart?” He smiles up at her hopeful.

“Sparkling water?” She offers. He sighs.

The man gives her a look. Castiel smiles to himself.

“Sorry,  _ sweetheart. _ ” The woman continues past smirking.

“Oh, come on. I know you’re holding out on me!” The man calls after her.

“Maybe this will help.” Castiel offers the man his coffee mug.

“Oh no. No coffee for me, man. My body is a temple.” The man puts his hands up. 

“I never said it was coffee,” Castiel says in a grave whisper.

“Now we’re talkin’. ” The man takes the hint and the mug. He lets out a long sigh after he drinks. 

“You’re an Angel, Cap.” Dean tips the mug to Cas.

“No, just a day drinker.” Cas allows himself to look him in the eyes. He’s glad he did.

“It’s 5’ o'clock somewhere. Well, at least where we’re going. What’s waiting for you in Boston?” The man looks as though his nerves have calmed. They share the mug.

“I’m not entirely sure yet…” Castiel sighs. He tries to keep himself from shutting down. “A fresh start. Or starting somewhere, I suppose.”

“That makes two of us.” The man says, looking somewhat faraway. 

They are quiet for a moment, but content. Until the man raises the mug and says,

“Well...uh. Here’s to starting fresh, Cap’.” He offers a warm smile.

“To starting fresh.” Castiel looks at him returning his gaze. They drink. There’s an awkward silence after a moment. Cas shifts in his seat until the man turns to him again offering Cas a hand. 

“I’m Dean by the way. Dean Winchester.” Dean smiles. Cas takes his hand and shakes it. 

“Hello, Dean.” They continue to share their drink.


End file.
